Death's Companion
by Lulubird
Summary: When Clarke pressed the blade to the fluttering pulse at Lexa's throat, she was seeking an end to the guilt that had been burning her alive since she fled Camp Jaha. When she and Lexa become prisoners together to an unknown enemy, she'll have to learn how to forgive if she wants to survive. Forgiving Lexa is one thing...forgiving herself? That seems impossible.
1. Chapter 1

_**Guilt is the most painful companion of death.**_

The blindfold was ripped from Clarke's eyes at the same time as hand between her shoulder-blades sent her crashing onto an unforgivable rock floor. The aches that riddled her body brought a moan to her lips as she rolled herself over, only to see Lexa pushed through the door too. She thudded onto the floor with a pained cry.

Attempting to lift herself into a sitting position with her hands still bound in front of her caused Clarke's stomach muscles to protest. As one of their abductors suddenly moved towards her brandishing a dull blade, she shrunk back instinctively, but he only grabbed her hands and sawed through the ropes. Clarke immediately used her freedom to propel herself backwards from the terrifying armor-clad figure, until her back smacked into solid, cold stone. The man made a guttural noise of disgust before moving to Lexa and slicing her binds too. With a swirl of grey fur, Clarke and Lexa were alone in the small space and the only door slammed shut. A click and a thud told Clarke that the door had been locked and barred.

Suddenly the remains of the ropes that curled around her wrists felt as petrifying as snakes against her skin. In a panic, Clarke scrabbled at her arms and flung the tendrils away from her. She became aware of Lexa trying to do the same, unable to pull the ropes over her hands because they hadn't removed her blindfold. It was probably because of the way she had fought when the warriors had sprung upon them in the woods. Clarke had been too numb to put up any fight but Lexa had thrown herself in front, sword in hand, in the space of a heartbeat.

Her movements stiff and robotic, Clarke moved to her side. As she lay a hand on Lexa's shoulder, her whole body flinched which only caused Clarke to startle too. Her fingers trembled as she briefly withdrew her touch. The last time Clarke had been touching her, she had been holding a knife to Lexa's throat.

"It's okay," Clarke murmured instinctively. "It's only me."

She didn't know why she said that considering that when she'd seen Lexa riding through the woods four nights ago, she'd decided on the spot to kill her.

It was the culmination of weeks spent wandering alone in the woods feeling as though she was going to burn up from the storm of anger and guilt and sorrow that raged inside her.

In the darkest moments of the night she'd thought of the Commander and she'd been unable to stop herself wondering how everything could have been different if Lexa had only stayed by her side.

Then, somehow, on a deserted trail outside Tondc, she had found herself pressing Lexa into a tree and pressing a blade to the fluttering pulse at her throat. That was until, moments later, they had been surrounded by fur-clad warriors with weapons drawn. Clarke's only thought had been that is was Lexa's guard; they were surely going to kill her and she hadn't been able to kill Lexa. _She'd killed 300 innocent people in Mount Weather but she couldn't kill Lexa_. She'd dropped the knife, not even caring if the guard drove her through with a sword in that moment.

As illogical as Clarke's comfort was, so was Lexa's reaction because her body relaxed and she allowed Clarke to deftly unwind the ropes. For a brief moment, Clarke's fingers wrapped around Lexa's wrist and she thought how frail her body was, how easily she could snap the bones under her fingertips. She pulled her hand away, vaguely horrified at her own monstrosity.

Freed, Lexa ripped the blindfold from her eyes and threw it with distain into a corner.

Clarke retreated, seeking comfort once more from impassible stone at her back. She watched Lexa through lowered lids as she assessed her surroundings with the keenness of a predator. Finally, her gaze shifted from the impenetrable door to the other girl and a sense of inevitably settled over Clarke.

She curled her knees up to her chest even though it aggravated old and fresh injuries and reluctantly lifted her gaze to meet Lexa's.

"Are you hurt?" Lexa asked softly. There was sincerity in her voice and it only caused bitterness to swell in Clarke' chest.

She ran her fingertips over the scars and scabs and scratches that laced the skin of her arms and hands. They were the visible marks she hadn't bothered to protect herself from in the hope that the searing pain of a twig or a rock would somehow drown out the ache she felt inside. She'd been looking for some form of punishment for the massacre at Mount Weather; perhaps being locked in here with Lexa was some form of cosmic punishment.

"You don't care," she answered listlessly. "You left me to die once before. You don't care now."

Lexa's eyelids fluttered. From those days they'd spent preparing for war, talking and planning and arguing in Lexa's tent, Clarke had learned that sometimes that almost imperceptible flutter of her eyelids was Lexa's only tell for something burning powerfully within her. But now Clarke couldn't be bothered wondering what Lexa felt. Slowly, she lowered her chin to her knees. She was so exhausted.

"I _am_ sorry, Clarke," Lexa murmured eventually. Clarke didn't move. "I am sorry for what I did. I am sorry that you are hurting because of it. But I don't regret my decision. It saved my people, Clarke. Everything I do is for my people."

A joyless smile twisted Clarke's lips. "You're a prisoner now, Lexa. Now you're going to die for them."

Clarke didn't know where they were or who held them prisoner and she struggled to care. She was tired of the games. Fate seemed determined to cause her grief no matter how hard she fought against it so why bother fighting?

Lexa glanced at the four, windowless walls of their tiny cell.

"Most likely." Her voice was emotionless and, even through her numbness, Clarke marveled at Lexa's ability to so calmly consider her own death. She didn't speak with the complete ambivalence that seemed to overwhelm Clarke, yet she contemplated the imminent possibility of her own death.

"We've both killed for our people," Lexa said. Clarke kept her eyes on the cracked stone under her feet, tracing the patterns with her eyes so her mind couldn't drift towards dangerous territory. Lexa took her silence as permission to continue.

"It's surely less of a sacrifice to die for them."

A spark of anger in Clarke's chest broke through her haze.

"You make it sound so simple," she spat. "Like it was _nothing_ to let 250 people die in Tondc and _nothing_ for me to kill 300 more in Mount Weather!"

Her throat burned as if the very words were filled with poison. She squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to stem the tears that were forming a lump in her throat.

"Death is far from simple," Lexa said softly. Frustration gnawed at the edge of Clarke's mind; that philosophical tone made her want to press the blade to Lexa's throat all over again. She spouted inspirational speeches to Clarke, just as gullible as the Grounders to Lexa's charisma, and expected her to be free of all the guilt. It may have worked long enough in Tondc for her to flee the missile attack but Clarke was too haunted now for pretty words to mend the deepest ache in her soul. She shook her head weakly.

"You don't understand what we've done at all, do you?"

Lexa was silent for a long time. The atmosphere in the confined space turned to one of tension as Clarke waited, without realizing it, for Lexa's response. Eventually, Clarke was compelled to lift her head and look towards the other girl. Lexa's expression was distant and Clarke guessed that she was somewhere no one would ever reach.

As if aware of Clarke's gaze upon her, her eyelids flickered and she returned to reality, green eyes meeting blue.

"Guilt is a luxury that I am not afforded, Clarke," she said, realizing that Clarke was expecting an answer. "I have to lead my people. For every death that haunts me, there are a thousand living depending upon my next decisions. I cannot afford – _my people cannot afford_ – for me to be consumed by my guilt."

Clarke inhaled a shaky breath, trying to push against the tightness that had wrapped around her chest.

"How do you just ignore it?" she whispered, uncaring that she sounded desperate. She hated the idea of turning off her feelings, becoming cold and merciless like Lexa, but she couldn't continue feeling like this. She wasn't strong enough, just another of her long list of faults.

"I _chose_ to kill 300 people," she continued, voicing the act for the first time. Her throat felt raw as she forced the words past her lips. " _I murdered children_."

Lexa blinked. There was pity in her eyes but it only made Clarke feel worse.

"You didn't choose to _kill_ , Clarke," Lexa said. "You chose to save your people."

"Is there a difference?" Clarke begged, her pride completely forgotten.

"Yes. When you can find the difference, it will get easier. It'll never be simple. It'll never be alright. There is no escape from the things we have done, Clarke. That is the nature of our burden. Your choices now are to find a way to live with your crimes or to die for them. There are many who have not been strong enough to do the first. But I've seen your strength, Clarke. Not the strength it takes to kill but the strength it takes to survive. That is what drove you in the mountain and I know it is what will save you now."


	2. Chapter 2

Clarke could not take her eyes away from Lexa, even when her vision was blurred by the tears that push their way in. Still, she refused to let them fall, her last vestige of control. She could not see a way passed the death that lingered on the edge of her mind every waking and dreaming moment. But she desperately wanted to believe in Lexa's words. She desperately wanted to believe that, after everything she had done to survive, after every death she had brought so that she could keep living, she was not simply destined to die from the guilt of those actions.

She watched as Lexa ran a slender finger along a crack on the stone floor. The stone was tinged with red in a familiar way that made Clarke's stomach turn.

"Do you know where we are?" she asked quietly, observing the grimness that set Lexa's face.

Lexa lifted a fingertip and inspected the faint red tinge upon it. "Yes," she said after a pause. "I believe we are in the fortress city of Nethr."

Her eyes flickered and she drew a breath. "We are prisoners of the Azgeda, Clarke."

The name caused a prickling sensation to break out across Clarke's skin. She rolled her shoulders to stop a shiver from running through her body.

"The Ice Nation?" She could not forget the only time she had heard Lexa talk of the brutal tribe. It was the first time she'd seen a glimpse of the human girl underneath the Commander's mask.

Lexa inclined her head, revealing nothing in her expression.

"But the Alliance…" Clarke murmured, momentarily roused from her depression by intrigue.

"The Azgeda have a different sense of honour to the Trikru," Lexa said diplomatically though her eyes were hard as steel. She had put her soul into the coalition between the twelve clans and Clarke could imagine that the betrayal cut her deeply. Her gaze flickered over Clarke.

"We were united against the Mountain. Without a common enemy there was always a risk the Azgeda would abandon the Alliance."

The complexities of trust and betrayal made Clarke's head ache. She didn't understand how Lexa could hold all the strategies and possibilities and fears in her head; Clarke had been dealing with those issues for a shorter time than Lexa and she already felt as though she would explode with the enormities.

"Why would anyone want to be a leader?" she mumbled to herself. She craved the way her life had been on the Ark, so free of obligation and responsibility. She hadn't appreciated it at all.

"No one _wants_ to be a leader, Clarke," Lexa says with genuine perplexity. "It is never a choice."

Clarke tilted her head. "You trained all your life to be Commander."

Lexa inclined her head but she was frowning. "I was Heda from the moment I was born. It was a birthright, not a choice. Leadership is a life of loneliness and duty; no one would choose this life, Clarke."

Lexa's words struck too honestly for Clarke and she ducked her head to hide the pain that crossed her face. She could feel Lexa watching her closely and knew she hadn't missed her wince or misunderstood the reason for it. She knew because she'd felt the same pain; she'd made the same sacrifices that Clarke had.

Struck by the idea, Clarke looked up. "The Azgeda killed Kostia, didn't they?"

Lexa only inclined her head regally again but her eyes were bright. She licked her lips and drew a deep breath; Clarke could hear it tremble in her throat.

"I won't let them hurt you, Clarke," Lexa whispered, unable to meet her eyes.

Her words surprisingly stirred emotion in Clarke's chest. She was caught off-guard by the warmth that spread from her stomach up through her chest; it had been a long time since she felt anything like it, but she forced herself to block out the sensation. She didn't deserve to feel anything close to good.

"You're not exactly in a position of power at the moment, Commander," Clarke remarked wryly.

Lexa's whole body jolted in a way that made Clarke's heart race and her eyes flew to the door as if she expected guards to come bursting through. Clarke's gaze followed instinctively though she didn't know why. Despite the antipathy of her mind, her body obviously still craved survival.

"Don't say that!" Lexa hissed, the softness in her eyes replaced by fire, "They cannot know who I am."

There was a beat as she fell silent and the pounding of blood in her head drowned out Clarke's thoughts. Her eyes were trained on Lexa, her body reflecting her agitated posture.

"They must have mistaken me for one of my guards," Lexa explained breathlessly. "Or I would be dead already and my body at the bottom of the chasm. The Azgeda may lack honour by they do not lack intelligence and even they wouldn't be foolish enough to knowingly kidnap Heda kom Trikru. If they realize who they have in their cells, they'll slit both our throats without hesitation; they could not risk my people finding out."

The anxiety in her voice caused Clarke's skin to prickle and she glanced at the door once more. They fell into a depressed silence as each pondered the grim twist fate had thrown at them. Or at least, Clarke did. Lexa's mind had obviously been turning because suddenly she slapped her palm against the floor, causing Clarke to jump agaon.

"Unless…" Lexa mumbled, thinking aloud. Her eyes widened but Clarke only felt a sense of trepidation. "Clarke, you must tell them that you are Skaikru!"

Her mind sluggish from exhaustion, cold, hunger and a million other things, Clarke blinked at her. "Why?"

Lexa leaned forward as if she were imparting a conspiracy upon Clarke. "The Azgeda were furious that my people controlled the alliance with yours. They have been desperate to arrange a meeting with your leaders. I suspect it is to propose an overthrow of my command. But don't you see? Your status as Skaikru is valuable to them, it could save you."

The words slowly sank into Clarke's mind and they made an unsettling sense. Lexa's fierce gaze urged her to accept the idea but Clarke shook her head.

"What about you?"

Lexa pressed her lips together silently but it was reply enough for Clarke.

"I refuse to walk away and leave you to the wolves," she said icily and by the way Lexa drew back as if she'd been slapped, Clarke knew the vicious message she'd intended had struck home. Lexa stared at her silently, fiercely, for several long moments and Clarke stared back, relishing the familiar flicker of willpower

Suddenly Lexa was a blur of movement and Clarke shrank back. Lexa leapt to her feet and threw herself at the door, slamming at the thick wood with her fist. Clarke, too stunned to stop her, had barely had time to draw breath before Lexa had raised enough noise to alert the guards.

As heavy footsteps approached, Lexa withdrew to the rear of the cell, breathing hard. She squared her shoulders as the door opened and a sword announced the arrival of the guards.

"Shop of!" the voice of a woman spat from a bulk of fur and cloth. Where her face should have been visible underneath a cowl, Clarke could only see a mask of bone. Clarke was frozen to the ground in fear, feeling brittle and insignificant against the towering bulk of the warriors. But Lexa took a brave step forward which was answered by a hiss and a threatening tap of the sword against her throat.

"Em laik kom Skaikru," Lexa announced without so much as a flicker of fear in her voice. She flung a hand towards Clarke and suddenly everyone was staring at her. Clarke swallowed, unsure whether to be more furious at Lexa or terrified of the warriors and their gleaming swords.

The two guards exchanged a cryptic glance that seemed to suffice as communication, because then one of them lunged at Clarke and the other at Lexa. Clarke couldn't hold the yelp that sprang from her lips as rough hands wrapped around her arms and spun her around. Lexa didn't even flinch as she was pinned to the wall. She locked Clarke with her gaze and compelled her to meet her eyes. The determination and conviction that Clarke saw there did nothing to reassure her as the fabric of her shirt was ripped away from her arm. The cool, damp air brushed against her bare skin and sent a shiver through her body but she didn't take her eyes away from Lexa's as the guard mutters something to his friend.

"Shich em op ridiyo," he announced. _She speaks the truth_. Clarke could translate the final words from her limited Trigedasleng and it brought a sinking sense that Lexa's plan had worked. As she was pulled away from the wall and shoved towards the door, she struggled, trying to keep her eyes on Lexa, who only watched with the slightest gleam of a martyrs satisfaction. Fury welled up in Clarke's throat at once again finding herself controlled and manipulated by Lexa and she released a feral scream that was befitting to the girl who had been roaming the woods alone. Though there was rage in her voice, she couldn't tell whether it was fury at her powerlessness or terror at the untold Lexa that now faced Lexa.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Despite any similarities to the new season, this was actually written before any of it aired, so any plot or character similarities in this chapter and the following are actually just coincidence. I hope you enjoy! - Lu**

Several flights of narrow stairs brought Clarke and her silent captors into a vast room. Clarke was deposited unceremoniously on a smooth rock floor; a chill of stone seeped through the torn fabric of her clothing and numbed the pain in her knees from where she knelt, staring up at a wooden platform on which sat a young man. Behind him, the simple wooden walls of the rest of the room gave way to a surface of solid rock, jagged cracks and lines of lichen decorating its surface as if nature was clawing her fingers back into civilization.

The man who was looking down at Clarke was not what she had been expecting as a leader for the infamous Azgeda. It was not his youth that puzzled her, because Lexa had always seemed every inch a leader despite her age, but the fact that his pallid skin and narrow frame created in image of sickliness and frailty. He was regarding her with a keen interest – the hardness of his eyes was the strongest element of his appearance – and leaning forward on his seat like an eager child. There was nothing of regality or stature that Clarke had come to expect from Grounder warriors and leaders.

"My soldiers tell me that you claim to be of the Sky People." He addressed Clarke in English and his voice was stronger and steadier than she would have expected. He could not hide an excited gleam from his eyes.

Clarke hesitated, weighing the risks of playing on his interest in her people. She hated even more that she had been put in this position against her will and without time to think. She contemplated denying her identity but, despite filth and wear from the woods, there were many aspects of her appearance that were undeniably foreign and she couldn't see any outcome other than death for both her and Lexa if she thought her just another Grounder. She licked her lips, dry and cracked from the cold winds.

"Yes," she replied carefully. "My friend and I are Skaikru."

There was a low rumble of laughter from the guards behind Clarke and she knew that her lie was useless. The man glanced at the guard beside Clarke and she spotted the slight shake of his head out the corner of her eye.

"That is a lie," the man declared. Despite the fact that he had to look to his inferiors for the answer, Clarke was still afraid of him. All she had achieved was to bring Lexa into a conversation that was laden with deathtraps. If Lexa was right and the soldiers who had abducted and held them mistook Lexa for one of her guards, then her safety relied upon her anonymity; Clarke could not guarantee that the leadership of the Azgeda would not be more discerning.

"You're blank skin reveals you as a Sky Person," the man said, interrupting the rapid flash of Clarke's thoughts. "Just as your friend's markings reveal her to be Trikru-"

"Who you have an alliance with," Clarke interjected, hoping to draw the conversation away from Lexa. The man clasped his hands together and the tense silence of the room was peppered with the pop of his cracking knuckles; the sound made Clarke's stomach turn but she clenched her jaw and stared at the floor.

"Our alliance with the Trikru has served its purpose. The Mountain has fallen. If we do not break the alliance, then the Trikru will. And the Azgeda do not wait."

It was a painfully Grounder mentality, Clarke thought bitterly. Pre-empt betrayal. Strike the first blow. Never defend. Never wait. It was the same mentality that had caused Lexa to abandon Clarke at the mountain.

The main raised his chin in defiance as if to clear his mind of anger over talk of the Trikru.

"I should have introduced myself," she said and Clarke was immediately distrusting of the rapid change in his demeanor. "My name is Hew. What should I call you?"

The familiarity of a first name only made Clarke's skin crawl but she didn't have much choice but to play along.

"Clarke," she answered tersely. Hew smile, showing no teeth.

"I wish to propose an alliance with your people, Clarke," he said, forcing authority into his voice.

Clarke stared at the ribbons of black stone that curled through the floor beneath her. They reminded her of smoke twisting up towards grey clouds, like the smoke that she had watched curl from Finn's pyre. His death had been the price for their alliance with Lexa's people. Lexa's death would be the price for an alliance with the Azgeda. She was trapped in this sickening, terrifying cycle of death and betrayal. The memory of burned wood and flesh drifted through her mind and with it Lexa's words as they'd watch the ashes of Finn's body blow away in the wind.

 _I lost someone close to me as well. Her name was Kostia. She was captured by the Ice Nation whose Queen thought she knew my secrets…_

Clarke lifted her head and fixed Hew with a piercing look.

"I would have expected to hear such a proposal from your Queen," she said, reveling in the way her final word caused his skin to flush vermillion. Anger was clearly visible in his eyes but Clarke was beyond caring. Hew rose from his chair and darted a furious look around the room, as if daring his soldiers to laugh at him, even silently.

"I speak for the Kwin!" he burst out, spittle flying from his mouth. There was defensive panic in his tone and Clarke knew she had struck a nerve. He turned away and placed his hands on the stone wall. For several silent minutes everyone watched his hunched form, Clarke observing the deep inhales that rippled his torso. Without warning he lifted his head and spun back to face Clarke and his features were schooled to perfect calmness.

"I offer you this proposal for the Azgeda. Do you accept or not?"

Clarke felt physically sick, the acrid taste of bile sharp at the back of her throat and the blood pounding loudly in her skull. She knew that any decision she made could be fatal and silence would most definitely be. She wondered what Lexa would decide faced with this decision. Lexa would do what was right for her people, she would abandon Clarke and make the alliance.

She _had_ done that.

But Clarke wasn't Lexa. She hadn't been trained mentally and physically since childhood for the role of leader. She hadn't molded her mind and her heart to be able to make such ruthless decisions. And she was glad of it, because, if she hated Lexa for the decision she had made, what would she think of herself if she made the same one?

Clarke shook her head.

"I do not accept."

Hew stared at her for a long, tense moment and then turned away, almost disappointed like a parent in a child who had made a foolish decision. Clarke felt numb and hazy with adrenalin pumping through her veins. With a wave of his hand Hew dismissed her and she was wrenched once more to her feet. Despite her momentary conviction and flash of courage, Clarke could not prevent her body from shaking with fear as she was dragged from the room.


End file.
